


Beneath The Surface

by NobodyAtAll



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hayffie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyAtAll/pseuds/NobodyAtAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after Peeta is rescued from the Capitol, Haymitch and Effie find their relationship changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath The Surface

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in District 13, the day after Peeta strangles Katniss.

Haymitch stalked down the corridors of the hospital, unaware of where he was headed. He only knew that he couldn’t stay still.

By now he was familiar with the ache of powerlessness, but he had never been able to get used to it. He could avoid it, detach, ignore, scoff. He could drown it. But since these were his kids, not random strangers, he couldn’t detach. And because of Coin’s ‘prohibition,’ he couldn’t dive under.

So he walked. Determined, but aimless. The image of Peeta gripping Katniss by the throat kept replaying in his mind. Haymitch couldn’t name the emotion he was feeling. Furious wasn’t strong enough. Nor was sickened. Shocked. Sad. He snorted as the word crossed his mind. ‘Sad?’ That might describe his own life, but it didn’t begin to cover the atrocity of what Snow had done to that boy.

And guilt. The guilt was almost too much. The boy should never have been a part of any of this. His love for Katniss was what had damned him. Her love for him had cemented him firmly next to her. And with the Resistance using Katniss as their figurehead, without her knowing it, and with himself being her Mentor and a conspirator in the plan... Well. That made Peeta’s current situation _his_ fault, didn’t it?

The cool, bluish tiles of the hospital transitioned to the gray concrete of the bunker. The hallway was hushed. 

Of course, Haymitch knew the real blame all fell to Snow. His Games were the source of all this suffering. But he couldn’t stifle the reproach he was feeling for himself. He should have warned one of them. He should have let it be their choice to be a part of it.

 _Sacrifice is necessary,_ Plutarch would say. _This is war._

Haymitch was pulled out of his contemplation by an odd sound. It was echoing down the hallway. Since he was in need of a distraction from his thoughts, Haymitch followed the sound until he reached a dead end.

There, at the end of the hall in a little alcove, stood the source of the odd noise. Looking smaller than usual, slumped against the wall, was Effie Trinket with her face in her hands. She was weeping.

Haymitch froze. He didn’t have it in him to comfort someone right now, nor did he even want to. It wasn’t her pain to feel. She had no right _cry._ Katniss, Peeta, the other rescued Victors, _they_ were suffering right now. Effie Trinket was not going to get any sympathy from him by crying about how everything she was experiencing second-hand made her feel. 

He decided to turn and walk away. He only managed one step, though, before he heard her say his name.

He stopped. “Haymitch.” This time her voice was stronger, more determined. It wasn’t the tone he’d expected, and so he grudgingly turned to face her.

Effie’s face was blotchy. It made her look human, Haymitch thought, instead of like a doll.

She took a shaky breath. She took another. Finally she seemed to give up on trying to speak, and held out her hands to him.

Effie could see the desperate look on his face. She knew Haymitch very well. Even back in Twelve, Katniss and Peeta had been his only companions. Now they were both barely alive. The other survivors from Twelve didn’t appear particularly friendly with him; they certainly didn’t seek out his company. She could see these things because she, too, had no friends down here. But what was she supposed to say? Ask him if he was all right? She knew he wasn’t. She also knew he wasn’t accustomed to accepting help. 

Haymitch came over to her, slowly. He wasn’t going to be drawn into her self-pity.

She took the final step to close the gap between them, and surprised him by wrapping her arms around him tightly. 

Haymitch instinctively hugged her back. 

He expected her to release him again, like a normal person would do when hugging a friend. But she held on longer, with her cheek pressed against his chest. Haymitch wasn’t sure what to do, so he did nothing.

He was in pain. She was, too, but she couldn’t tell him why she had been crying. She couldn’t tell him that she hadn’t been able to sleep ever since seeing Finnick’s propo. That hearing the news of what had happened to Peeta had shocked her. That it had taken her this long for her to open her eyes and see how many atrocities were committed on a daily basis by the Capitol. That now she was completely questioning her life up until this point, and was tearing herself up for her role in the Games. She couldn’t tell him these things, because she didn’t want him to think any worse of her than he already did. And Haymitch wasn’t one to be considerate with others feelings, so he certainly wouldn’t make an exception for someone so undeserving. Especially not while he was suffering like this.

Finally she said quietly, “I’m here for you.”

Haymitch felt a tingle of warmth spread across his face. What was _that_ supposed to mean? He was sure her intentions were good, but it was such a dramatic thing to say. ...Well at least it wasn’t self-indulgent.

“Thanks, Effie,” he answered.

They held onto each other in silence, until Effie finally drew back. She took a steadying breath, and met his gaze. “I want to be on the right side of all this,” she declared earnestly.

Haymitch studied her, mildly perplexed. “You are,” he assured her. She had been supporting Katniss with the propos, helping prep and coach. 

Effie nodded, but did not look confident. The color again rose in her face; her eyes grew bright with tears. Her lips pursed, no doubt trying to supress the surge of her emotions. She turned her attention to straightening Haymitch’s sweater.

Haymitch let her ‘fix’ him, and watched her intently. 

“Finnick and Annie are so sweet together, aren’t they?” Effie commented in a small voice. 

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re... they’re real good for each other.” 

Effie sniffled. Her lips trembled for a moment before she blurted, “I had no idea. All those things Finnick said.” She looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Truly. I didn’t know.”

Haymitch frowned, but he nodded. “I believe you.”

Her hands were trembling as she smoothed his sleeves. “He... President Snow, he wasn’t doing that to you, was he?”

A tight knot constricted in his stomach. “No.”

“And... the children?” she whispered, eyes glued to his chest.

“No,” he assured her quickly.

Thank heavens. She’d been terrified of finding out that all this time, her Victors had been abused right under her nose. It comforted her the tiniest bit to know that she hadn’t been _that_ blind. 

Effie let out her breath, closed her eyes and nodded. “Good.”

Haymitch frowned more deeply. Yes, it was good that Snow hadn’t forced the kids into sexual slavery. But was sending them into an arena to die any better? Torturing them? _Hijacking_ them? He could feel his fight instinct ramping up again, muscles tightening, breath quickening, and vision narrowing. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, pulling away from Effie. He knew it wasn’t her fault, that he was angry at a political regime, and not at her, but he couldn’t hold it together right now. He clenched his jaw, holding back the panicked feeling that was trying to kick its way out of him. _I need a damn drink,_ he thought angrily.

“Haymitch,” Effie said again, taking hold of his hand. 

“What?” he snapped.

He saw the pain in her expression, from the set of her mouth and the roundness of her eyes. But, for better or worse, Effie was used to his fits of temper, and she did not crumble. She simply raised her chin and shook her head slightly, as if to say ‘never mind.’ 

He couldn’t stay still another minute. He turned, pulling away from her, and stalked back the direction he came from. He had hurt Effie’s feelings. So what. There were worse things in the world. He’d sacrificed his kids to the cause. Now Peeta had tried to kill Katniss. Finnick had told the world the shameful truth about the life of a Victor. There was no drop of alcohol in this entire fucking prison. People were dying and suffering and lives were ruined and there was nothing he could do and he needed to _block it out._

Something brushed his arm, and he glanced over to see that Effie had fallen into step beside him. He sighed impatiently. “Effie, I’m not good company right now.”

Effie kept her eyes forward. “I know,” she said simply.

Haymitch frowned, mystified once again. But fine. She was so desperate for companionship? Fine. But he certainly wasn’t going to be any source of comfort. She had better not get weepy again. He was fighting too many inner battles to deal with hers right now.

She wasn’t going to let him suffer alone. With everything else going on, no one seemed to notice how much Haymitch was struggling. Maintaining his sobriety was no problem, since there was no alcohol to be had, but when she was around him she picked up on the moments when his eyes grew dark, when in times past he would have reached for the nearest bottle. She had no doubt that adding the addiction on top of everything else made it doubly painful.

They walked almost the entirety of Level 7 before Haymitch felt the panic start to abate. The pain was still there, aching in his chest, but he didn’t feel the need to run from it as quickly.

They descended the stairs to Level 8 silently. Haymitch slowed his march down to an amble. Maybe Katniss would be awake in a little while. He should check in on her. A new surge of guilt went through him at the thought of her. He’d promised to save Peeta. And he’d really intended to, truly, he’d intended for both of the kids to be rescued. But they’d failed. And now the boy was changed. Perhaps gone permanently.

His throat closed up, and he shook his head to get some control back. He couldn’t bear to think of it. They _would_ get Peeta back. They had to.

Effie’s hand slipped into his and squeezed gently. Haymitch sensed her looking at him, but he couldn’t make himself return the glance. He was tense, ready to suffer through one of her ‘uplifting’ speeches, but it never came. She released his hand and continued to drift along next to him silently.

Effie was thinking of Katniss and Peeta. The whispers were that Peeta would never be the same. That they had changed his brain. It was so utterly unfair, it made her heart hurt. She, of all people, knew and believed that Peeta had known nothing about the Rebels’ plan. Just as she had been in the dark, so had he. And Katniss and Peeta's love for each other was so strong, so pure... It wasn’t fair. And the torture that they’d put him through... she shuddered to think of it. She shuddered to think that it could have been her, too, had the Rebels not removed her from the Capitol when they did. Which she strongly suspected had been the work of the man walking beside her, though she didn’t have the courage to confirm it.

Haymitch swallowed. By his judgement, Effie was completely self-centered. But maybe he was being too hard on her. She’d been caring and sympathetic with the kids, even before the Quell was announced. She could be oblivious, and yes, she’d been prissy the first few weeks in Thirteen, but she _had_ essentially been kidnapped. And the woman next to him was nothing of the sort. She was hurting because their kids were hurting, and she loved them. 

No... that wasn’t a fair assessment either, he forced himself to admit. She was also worried about _him._ Here she was, walking for miles underground with no destination in sight in order to be with him. She was trying to look out for him. Effie Trinket was his friend. Effie cared about him.

He gave her a covert glance. She was gazing ahead, clearly lost in thought. Her emotions were living very close to the surface, still covering her face in blotchy color. This wasn’t the self-centered, airy nag he’d known for years.

Haymitch slowly brought himself to a halt, and turned to look at her. Effie met his gaze with a questioning one. Without exactly knowing why, Haymitch placed a hand on her waist and turned her toward him, watching for her to protest. She didn’t. 

He leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were softer and warmer than he remembered. He’d kissed her once before, several years ago... but not like this. That time, he’d been completely wasted, and angry, and had only done it because he knew it would repulse her and get her off his back. It had worked, too. He’d never forget her outrage... because of course, it had been in front of some potential sponsors, and she’d been utterly mortified. She’d refused to speak to him for the rest of the Games.

But now... now she was leaning into him. Now her mouth was opening, and her tongue was caressing his, and his body was pressed up against her. It was the most pleasant thing he’d felt in a long time.

They slowly came up for air, opening their eyes and looking at each other. Haymitch was at a loss for what to do next. Effie’s eyes were teary, which made him nervous. But she threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck, hugging him tightly. He squeezed her tightly in return, eyes closed. She smelled like something sweet, and he wondered if she had somehow smuggled in some perfume. If anyone could, it was her. Effie was nothing if not determined.

She loosened her embrace and glanced up at him. “I definitely like you better sober,” she said with a small smile.

Haymitch smiled half-heartedly, and kissed her temple. “Clearly.”

Effie smiled, but it faded quickly. “I meant what I said before,” she said softly. “I am _here_ for you.”

Haymitch swallowed, studying her. “What about you?” he asked reluctantly. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.” Her cheeks were red. They shared an uneasy silence, acknowledging her lie.

Haymitch frowned at her. “Come here,” he said quietly, hugging her tightly again.

Effie embraced him fiercely for a long moment, before tipping her face up to capture his lips again. 

It was a deep, urgent kiss this time. The sensation of floating overtook him, and for however long it was, all he could feel was _her._

They came apart out of necessity, panting for breath. Haymitch’s lips were throbbing. Effie looked a little embarrassed. She wiped some wetness from the corners of her eyes. 

Haymitch’s natural instinct in an uncomfortable instant was, of course, to tease her. “Just think... if you’d been a little more receptive before, we could’ve been doing this for years.”

She responded with her most stern ‘Effie’ look of disapproval. “Reminding me of that particular incident is supposed to accomplish...what, exactly?”

Haymitch smirked fondly. “Just makin’ sure you’re still you,” he said, leaning down to press another kiss on her mouth.

Effie kissed him back, but couldn’t smile. His comment, though intended to be humorous, stoked the flames of her internal self-combustion. Was she still who she had been? Did she want to be? Surely there were some _good_ aspects to her character. There must be. Why else would they have brought her here? ...Why else would he have kissed her?

A somber-faced man in a sharply pressed gray uniform rounded the nearby corner, and immediately looked confused. “Citizens, what is your business on this level?”

They quickly jumped apart. Effie’s mouth opened slightly, but produced no sound. Haymitch piped up, “Morning. We were looking for the hospital, but I think we might’ve got turned around.”

The man frowned. “The hospital is on Level Five.”

Haymitch played dumb. “This isn’t Level Five?”

The man looked pointedly at the concrete wall, which clearly stated in bold lettering, “Level 8.”

Haymitch looked at Effie. “Well, that would explain it.”

She sighed. “It certainly would.”

Haymitch turned back to the man and smiled. “Well, we’ll be off then. Level Five, right?”

The man was not amused. “Let me show you to the elevator.”

He walked between the two of them, around the corner to the elevator doors, waited with them for the elevator to arrive, and even went so far as to come inside and press the button for Level Five, before being on his way.

“I will never get used to everyone being so _pushy_ ,” Effie commented, smoothing her clothes.

Yes, she was definitely still Effie. Haymitch gently took hold of her exposed wrist and pushed back her sleeve to her elbow. He examined the schedule printed on her skin for a moment before smiling wryly. “You’re late for 11:30 - Kitchen Duties,” he pointed out. Effie rolled her eyes, and Haymitch smiled more. “You must be in heaven, Effie. Here everybody’s got a schedule, and they’re all on time...”

“Believe me, if I was in heaven, I would write everyone’s schedules, and they would all begin with 8:00 - Smile For Once,” she said firmly. She glanced at his arm. “And what are you supposed to be doing now? Surely your schedule doesn’t say 11:30 - Wander Aimlessly.”

He shrugged. He honestly hadn’t even looked at his schedule. “Let’s see,” he said, unbuttoning his cuff. _11:30 - Therapy._ He sighed and pushed the sleeve back down, but from the look on her face he knew Effie had seen. She lowered her eyes, saying nothing.

“Since we’re headed to the hospital... should we look in on Katniss and Peeta?” she asked after a long pause.

“Yeah,” Haymitch answered quietly. “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what we should do.” He found her hand next to his, and threaded their fingers together.

The doors opened, and they walked together down the hall, with Haymitch leading the way. They wound their way through the hospital, and since Haymitch seemed to know where he was headed, no one stopped them. They stopped in front of the observation window outside Peeta's room.

This was the first time Effie had seen him. He was sleeping, but even so he was restrained. The gauntness of his face looked even worse in person than it had on TV. She put a hand over her mouth, holding back her emotions.

Haymitch was glad to see him resting, but had the suspicion that he'd been sedated.

"I picked the wrong name," Effie whispered.

Haymitch looked over at her, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"At the Reaping," she explained quietly. "I picked your name from the Reaping Ball. But I shouldn't have, should I?" she asked, looking at him.

Haymitch frowned more deeply. "You didn't have any control over that."

"You would have volunteered, for Peeta. Wouldn't you?" It wasn't phrased as a question. "That would have been one more person in the Arena who knew about the plan."

Haymitch wasn't surprised at her insight; he knew Effie wasn't stupid. What did surprise him was that she was bringing it up now.

"It's really my fault that this happened to him," she concluded in a whisper. A tear made its way down her cheek.

"Don't do that," Haymitch said gruffly. "It's no more your fault than it is anyone's."

She brushed the tear off her face, nodding. 

He turned and walked away from the window, heading toward Katniss's room. He didn't want to think about blame; it was the thing he had been running from all morning. He thought instead about how it had felt to kiss Effie, to hold her against him. He paused to look back, and was glad to find that she had followed close. 

Without bothering to wait for permission, Haymitch opened the door to the room and went in. Katniss was also asleep, almost certainly sedated. The steady beeping of her heart monitor was the only sound in the room. 

Effie came in behind him. They sat with Katniss for a while, somberly, until a nurse came into the room and kicked them out. “Check your schedules,” she advised. “Most of Thirteen is scheduled for lunch right now.”

As they left the hospital, they exchanged a glance, which turned into a look. 

“I’m not going to lunch,” Effie said finally. “I couldn’t eat a thing.”

Haymitch grunted by way of reply. He was thinking of Katniss’s bruised face. He took a moment, then said, “I’m going to take a walk.” He took a couple of steps before glancing back at her. “You coming?”


End file.
